


Going Under

by CanITellUSmThin



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/F, Family Problems, Hurt/Comfort, Short Chapters, Stress, Suicidal Thoughts, self-hate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:32:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8010235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanITellUSmThin/pseuds/CanITellUSmThin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life was just a dark, sad, bottomless hole, and Elsa was falling deeper and deeper into its depths every passing day. (Elsanna, not related)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When depression slams into me hard, I write shiz like this, apparently.
> 
> The chapters are going to be rather short, for the most part. They might get a bit lengthier towards the end, but for now, I have four chapters ready to be posted and they aren't big at all.

“Will it ever get better?” she wonders quietly, using the sleeve of her shirt to wipe the tears leaking from her eyes as she gazes down at a letter gripped tightly in her shaking hand.

She lowers the letter- the bearer of bad news- and slumps in her chair wearily. She glances at the calendar, counts the months that have passed and reflects on all the pain and suffering, all the nights of stinging tears she has endured during that time.

So much has happened. So much more to come with the last few months of the so far hellish year still lurking ahead.

It was scary to think about.

“Will it ever get better?” she repeats numbly, dropping the letter on her desk and pushing it aside as her head follows suit with a dull thud.

Her head hurts. Her chest aches. She was tired. So so painfully tired. Tired of feeling like _this_.

A fresh wave of tears falls from her eyes and her shoulders heave, pitiful gasps escaping from her gaping mouth.

She doesn’t want to feel this suffocating torture anymore.

She senses it’s all she’ll ever feel.


	2. Chapter 2

When she wakes up the desk is still damp from her crying. Her back is sore from the awkward hunched position she slept in. The clock on the shelf across her room tells her she needs to be at work soon.

More stress. She can’t wait.

She forces herself up, shuffles around the room gathering what she needs to get ready.

_What’s the point?_ she wonders, throwing on a shirt. What’s the point when it doesn’t get her anywhere? She’s always on time, always trying her best. Has been for ten years. Yet without fail those who slack off were the ones rewarded, appreciated for a job not done. 

It doesn’t make sense to her. But she learned to stop making sense of things long ago.

Dressed for work, she stares at her reflection, at the sad excuse of a human who stares gloomily back. She wonders what her purpose in life is when everything she does is meaningless. Nothing but a huge waste of energy.

She discovers her work shirt is on backwards and takes a few seconds to fix it. She’s not surprised she messed up the simple act of dressing.

Everything she does is wrong. Wrong wrong _wrong_. Sometimes she wishes she couldn’t speak so people wouldn’t have to hear her stupidity. Sometimes she wishes she couldn’t think so she wouldn’t have to mentally hear her stupidity. Sometimes she wishes…

She goes to work. Right on time, as usual.

She doesn’t smile. Not anymore. Not really. Any smiles she can muster up are fleeting things. Gone before they can properly form. She wonders if she’ll ever get the chance to smile for real again. She doubts it’ll ever happen.

What’s the point when there’s nothing to smile about?

She works mechanically. Does what she is supposed to do. 

Just like she always does.

Sometimes she breaks down at work. Crumbles pitifully like the pathetic weakling she is. Nobody sees. Or they simply don’t care. 

She suffers alone. Like always.

Eventually her long shift ends. The stress she accumulated clings to her and follows her home. Stress- her only friend who is always by her side and never leaves her.

There’s no escaping it.


	3. Chapter 3

Her room is a mess. Paper and empty bottles strewn all over the floor. Kicked underneath her bed. Dust comfortably settled on every available surface. The mess is a side effects of her fluctuating, deepening depression. She despises it, tells herself she’ll clean it up. Eventually.

It’s been years now. She’s made no progress aside from adding to the collection. She attempts to correct that and gets distracted when she comes across long forgotten family photos buried under piles of garbage.

The pictures almost don’t seem real.

They were taken during different times. Back when her family was whole and happy. Back when things weren’t tense and awkward and her mother didn’t cast out her little sister as if she wasn’t her own flesh and blood.

As if she was nothing more than a stranger.

_It should have been me_ , she thinks.

She wishes it was. Then her sister wouldn’t have to feel rejected. Unwanted. Wouldn’t have to feel like she’s not good enough. Unloved. Her little sister didn’t deserve to feel that way.

But _she_ does. It was all she deserved. All she was worthy of.

She was a steaming pile of nothing.

She hardly recognizes the stupidly grinning little girl in the picture she holds in her hand, blonde hair messily done up in a braid with a blue band on top of her head. Her younger self. Taken back when the worst she had to worry about was silly things like losing her favorite toy. Back when there existed a thing called fun and hope.

Love...

Now there was nothing but a broken family and a sea of disappointments. A sea that with every passing day sucks her in deeper and deeper.

She can’t pinpoint when that little girl inside her died and became the thing she is today.

But she wonders when the thing she is today will join her.


	4. Chapter 4

She drags herself to her bedroom, weightlessly collapses onto her bed and lays there, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Hours pass by. Day turns to night. She continues to lay there, staring at nothing.

Eventually she snaps out of it, rolls onto her side to grab her laptop off the nightstand.

Her laptop feels like it weighs a ton as she pulls it onto her lap and boots it up. She’s not sure why she does it. It has nothing to offer her anymore.

Maybe because it was the only place that felt like a happy home for her the last few years. It was her escape from the depressing horrors of the real world. 

It worked well for a time. She made acquaintances with people who she quickly considered to be great friends. People she joked and laughed with, people she cried and gushed with. People who knew more about the real her than her own family. She got involved in fun groups. She was inspired to create content that others could enjoy.

Everything was looking up. She had something positive to look forward to when she returned home from hell.

It was nice. Pleasant. It was the time she was the most happiest. A time when she actually smiled.

She should have known it wouldn’t last. Being the fuck up that she is, nothing ever does.

One traumatic fight with her sister and depression rears its ugly head and strikes her aggressively, sinking its fangs into her throat and drying up all traces of her creativity. It injects her with doubts and anxiety, preventing her from participating in those groups she was once apart of. Ensuring her uselessness. She stupidly clings onto the hope that she’ll get better and return to that creative fun part of herself. To be active again.

But those she had thought were her friends don’t understand her suffering. They refuse to listen to her pleas. And while they don’t say it directly to her face, she knows the things they post are directed towards her. 

It hurts.

It fuels her anxiety. The pressure keeps building and building up inside her until she can’t bring herself to drop in anymore. She wants to, despite everything. She wants to so bad. But the mere thought sends her heart rate racing unhealthily.

She can’t redeem herself by this point anyway, even if she was capable of it.

Slowly, slowly she drops lower and lower and lower...

She was so far down now, how could she ever look up again?

She browses the internet mindlessly, perhaps in search of one last attempt at uncovering inspiring hope to grapple onto. Anything at all.

There’s none to be found.


	5. Chapter 5

She takes half a bite of a cookie and struggles to swallow it down. Her throat protests. Her stomach twists into knots. She feels like she’s going to puke.

Somehow she doesn’t.

She sits there, blankly staring at the remainder of her rejected snack. Deliberates over the downward spiral her life has taken and she again wonders why she bothers.

So she stops.

She stops going to work. Stops eating. Gives up on sleeping. 

What’s the point when there is no point?

Nothing to look forward to but more disappointments. More problems. More heartache.

Gradually she grows weaker, the shadows surrounding her feeding off her brittle, broken, worthless soul.

She hopes it won’t be too long before it drains her completely dry.

Except… it’s awfully slow. She can feel her body sucking up whatever resources it has left to sustain it. To prolong her suffering.

She wants it to end _now_.

Using what little strength she has left, she takes her car and makes a trip to the beach. It’s dark outside and she’s the only one there, meaning she can get the job done in peace. She walks along the wooden dock until she reaches the end, her toes hanging off the edge as she peers into the rolling waves below her. 

She considers it a blessing that she never learned how to swim. It’ll be easier getting it over with. Letting Mother Nature take control by eradicating the source of all her problems.

“Me,” she whispers into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

If anyone had told her years before that this was where she’d end up, she’d think it was absurd and probably laugh. She never understood what could drive someone to do something so drastic. So life changing.

So permanent. 

She swore such a thing would never happen to her. Couldn’t possibly.

Oh, but how wrong she’d been. How foolishly naive she was. 

She knows better now.

Hot tears roll down her cheeks, blurring her surroundings, blinding her from seeing the churning water below her. She chokes on a sob, her chest constricting as the pain she’s harbored all this time comes crashing down on her one last time, weighing heavily on her heart. 

She hopes it’s enough to keep her submerged under water.

She’s not sure how long she stands there crying, littering the salty sea with her insignificant tears, but eventually she wipes her eyes clear with her sleeve and steels herself, preparing to take the plunge. To end the suffering once and for all.

To finally find the complete nothingness she rightfully deserves.

“Making today a perfect day,” she sings softly, laughing humorlessly as the ocean breeze caresses her pale face and the waves crash and splash around her, hopping onto the dock she stands upon and nipping at her feet, as if eager to pull her in. Impatiently waiting to devour her whole, to free the world of trash like herself from polluting the lives of others.

_Free..._

A surprisingly calming peace settles over her as the single, simple word echoes repeatedly inside her head.

_Free._

Soon. Soon she’d be free of all that troubled her. No more tears. No more pain. 

Nothing.

Closing her eyes, and sucking in what she imagines will be her last breath, she flattens her arms to her sides and raises her leg to step forward and accept her fate. 

_I’m free._

And for the first time in forever, she smiles.


End file.
